Her body shuddered with a hell yes but she kept her response neutral. “Maybe.”
“We can both be pretty demanding,” he said, his voice darkly sensual as he threaded his fingers through the damp hair at her nape. “What makes you think you can handle us both?”
She tilted her chin up. “What makes you think I can’t?”
His lips curled in a wicked smile. “Confident, aren’t we? Drop the towel. Let’s see how you handle your own master first. Then I’ll determine if you’ve earned the pleasure of being shared. Ménage is not for the faint of heart, pet.”
She lowered the hand that was holding the towel around her and allowed the terrycloth to fall to the floor. Unashamed. Aching for him to touch her. “I’m tougher than I look, sir.”
“Oh, I have no doubt about that.”
He gave her a slow once over and ran his hand down her back until he cupped her ass and drew her against him. She didn’t resist. “Good girl. When you’re with me, that’s all I want to see you wearing. My collar and that pretty flush you get when I touch you.”
He seated the crotch of his jeans against her sensitive flesh, sending ripples of pleasure through her. Her fists balled against his T-shirt. “Yes, sir.”
He lowered his head, kissing the sensitive spot beneath her ear. “Now, let me show you what happens when you question your master and make unsolicited suggestions.”
In one effortless motion, he hoisted her up over his shoulder, placing her face against his back, and smacked a palm against her bare ass. Hard.
“Hey!”
“Quiet.” He locked his arm around the backs of her thighs and carried her into the bedroom, leaving the door open behind them.
She bit her lip as the stinging began to tingle. Oh, my.
The bedroom was a good bit bigger than the one in her cabin, but looked to be decorated in the same rustic style. Nice cozy bungalow. The only things that alluded to its purpose were the metal rings hanging from some of the walls. She caught a glimpse of the bed in the mirror above the dresser and saw that Jace was carrying her over to the foot of the bed where a long padded table was set up.
He sat her down on the edge of it. “Face down, pet.”
She looked to his face to try to get a read on what he was going to do, but his expression was stoic.
“Don’t make me tell you again.”
Hurriedly, she turned over on her stomach and moved to the end of the table. It was a massage table of sorts, but she doubted he was going to give her a rubdown. She rested her head in the cushioned face cradle, her heartbeat pounding so loud she didn’t catch his next command.
“You’re earning more punishment by hesitating. I said lift your head.”Author: Roni Loren
She followed his instructions and he tied a band of silk around her eyes, blocking out most of the light. Anxiety wound through her.
A hand brushed over her hair. “You have my word that I won’t turn out the lights.”
“Yes, sir,” she said, his reassurance easing her a bit.
He grasped her wrist, drew it down the side of the table, and slid something around it. The clink of metal echoed through the room as he locked the cuff to the leg of the table. She pulled back, testing the hold, but the cuff didn’t give at all. She could flex her wrists but that was it. He quickly followed with the same treatment on her other arm. A rush of nerves went through her.
“Jace, I think—”
Thwack! His hand landed on the back of her thigh, making her jolt. “Your job is not to think, pet. Your job is to feel. Trust that I know what you need.”
She swallowed her protest, the sting from the spanking sending a bolt of hallelujah straight between her legs. Whoa. She wasn’t a stranger to pain being linked to relief—her years of cutting had taught her that. But never had she considered it could be arousing.
His finger traced the area on her thigh he had spanked. “You know how fucking sexy you look with my handprint marking you? You look better than the art hanging in my store.”
Her hands flexed in the bindings, the words rolling over her like sensual fire. “Thank you, sir.”
His tongue replaced his finger as he drew it along the back of her leg, licking her burning skin. Her thighs pressed together as moisture, hot and slick, coated her sex. She had the urge to press against the table, provide some relief to her clit as it swelled to an aching mass. He locked a hand over her other leg to keep her from squirming. “You’re not allowed to stimulate yourself without my permission.”
“I can’t help it.”